Mein Liebling
by theonlyoneleft
Summary: Glimmerous Fop x Fräulein Detective. It's always fun writing about people who pretend to hate each other. Rated M for overly obvious suggestive themes, cursing, and because I cannot stop cursing even in my own author's notes.
1. My Favorite

**A/N: Me and my wannabe German-ism (n-no, not really). I read this one KlavierxEma story by Mysterious Kinkster, who took the time to do some research, which I promptly ... copied (sorry! Your story was awesome, though). **

**Disclaimer: theonlyoneleft does not wish to cause any international incidents with the "flamboyant" (getit?) misuse of the German language (also, the em-dash).**

**(Oh yeah, and two in a row? Who let this kid in here, seriously?)  
**

"Ooh, baby."

Pure sarcasm, of course. Ema Skye's specialty.

Pushing me aside, she marched gloomily up to her Snackoos and walked right past me, something I've always hated about her. I mean, who just walks right past Klavier-freaking-Gavin, ex-lead-singer of the way-beyond-platinum hit-band the Gavinners. _Alles_, who gets that stupid bitch? She leaves me there, mid-friendly-grin, expecting me to follow her, probably. Pfft. Klavier Gavin does not wait on any woman hand and foot, ja?

So explain to me again how we ended up in such a compromising situation?

x

"Ooh, baby!" But this time, it was completely appropriate.

Who knew _mein Fräulein_ said things like that? I kept at it, though, pressed against her, with her pressed against the wall. "Ach, _Fräulein_ detective, you never cease to surprise me."

"Apparently—" a moan "—second base is no match for Klavier Gavin's top-notch conversational skills."

"You know it, _mein liebling_," I breathed. "God, I could swear you've done this before."

"Nope."

"Oh, but you moan _so well_."

"I do take pride in my vocal skills. Allow me to demonstrate as I expertly say—

x

"—Get the _fuck_ off me, you dribbling idiot!" Aaand she pushed him.

Gavin felt blurred around the edges. Not enough to stop being his usual self, however. "Nnghh. Watch your tone, _mein lieber_. You are still speaking to your boss, who has just been rudely awakened from a nice nap." He fell on his face gracefully as her presence left the couch.

"Yeah, tell that to the one who had to have you all … pressed up … against … places—and I really freaking hope that was your knee. And don't call me German words I can't understand! Also, I hate you. Just thought I'd throw that out there."

He only snickered. "We have a terrible working relationship, ja?"

"_We_ have _nothing_ of the sort! Now," she said, grabbing—what else?—her Snackoos. "I will take my leave. Good day, sir."

"How long was I—?"

"I said good day!"

He knew she'd always wanted to do that.

x

That night, Ema came home with a stack of books on the German language. She intended to find out what that glimmerous bastard had been muttering under his breath. Well, the German parts, anyway.

_"You_ _moan_ so well_," huh? Yes …. That was only his knee, Ema. Just his knee_. But unconsciously, she still bit her lip from the mere thought.

Back in focus, her eyes darted back and forth across the same line of text. Ema half-expected the words to change, to mock her for even believing it. But there it was, in black and white:

You know it, my favorite. _Mein liebling_.

**A/N: So I looked up the German word for darling and I got _liebling_. Then I translated it back to English using the trusty(?) translator and it gave me back 'my favorite.' Of course, I was like d'awww and proceeded to make it the focal point of this story. Currently working on the second chapter, (that no one will read because they will be too busy reading Twilight fanfics. I should know, I wrote one. *shudders*) which I will post soon. Oh and as always, feel free to totally whip me on any grammatical errors. 'Kay, bye.**

**P.S.: I found the German phrase for '_I fucked your girlfriend, but sadly, she was not as good a shag as your beloved mother!_' I love people.  
**


	2. Austrian Psychology and German Cake

**A/N: Hi there. Chapter Two is here, and it's not ridiculously short like Chapter One! If anyone actually speaks German and wants to help me, I would be much obliged. I have some ideas for the basic plot, but I don't know if I'll be able to finish the story this year. Or the next. Blah, anyway, why couldn't Gavin speak Spanish? So much easier.**

"Where are they, damn it? I've been looking for over a freaking hour and—" _Oh no._

"Looking for these, _Fräulein_?" Klavier Gavin stood above me, holding my glasses in his perfectly polished, manly, rock-star hands. God, how I hated that stupid bastard. He will never cease to think that he owns the damn place. "You left them on my couch last evening. You remember, _sicher_. Surely."

How dare he just waltz into this hallway like it was public property? He just happens to walk in, headphones hanging from his tan, cravat-less neck, while I'm on the floor, kneeling awkwardly to find my glasses—

"Shall I help you up? Anyone could walk in, find us like this, and assume the worst," he cautioned, adding the trademark smirk I wouldn't mind punching into his pretty little face ….

"I can get up myself, you jerk." And I did. Ha.

"Tsk, tsk. Such hostility to the rescuer of your beloved shades, _Fräulein_."

"God, stop calling me _Fräulein_. Jesus!" I swiped my glasses back, and before I could even begin to brush the dirt off my lab coat, the _stupid_ idiot was on me, smirking like he was going to win a prize for it. _He _would_ win a prize for it,_ I thought.

"Then, what would you rather I call you, then?" I could taste his glimmering breath, he was so close. All I could do was gulp. "…_Mein lieber? Mein … Liebling?_" I shrank.

"P-please get off me, Klav—Prosecutor Gavin." The request was half-mumbled and hushed, but he threw his arms up in mock surrender.

_I can almost hear him think "Was that 'get off me' or 'get me off,' Fräulein?"_

"Okay, okay, _Liebe_. I will honor your wishes, as I am, after all, a gentleman." _Psh. Miles Edgeworth is a gentleman. You, sir, are merely a … fop._

"Whatever. I mean, I have work to do, Prosecutor Gavin … sir," I muttered, hurrying through of the hallway.

"Wait, _Fräulein_ detective," he called out, and I turned, my hopes of getting things back to normal around this place vanishing more and more permanently with each degree. To my growing horror, in place of his ever-present sneer-smirk was a rare, actual smile.

"Do you still hate me?"

"Yes," I answered, and whirled to escape. I barely heard him over the thundering of my own footsteps, but I still heard him.

"For what it's worth, _Liebe_, I don't hate _you_."

x

"A-and he's _such_ a jerk. I don't even know how I stand it every day, you know?"

Chords of Steel and Magic-Girl just stood there and blinked like idiots for most of the rant. Well, at least Top Hat tried to be supportive at the end.

"You'll get through this, Detective Skye! Don't worry, glitter doesn't last forever. I should know." I didn't even know what that was supposed to mean, but it was something.

"Thank you, Trucy. It's nice to know _somebody_ cares," I said as I snackoo'd Antennae-Man.

"Unnecessary," he babbled. "Ms. Skye, I'm sorry about Prosecutor Gavin, I mean, we all know he's kind of absurd—"

"—but we're kind of stuck in this case and we were wondering if you could help," Trucy finished neatly.

"Oh. It's nice to know that I'm only addressed when my help is needed."

"But we've run out of options! We _need _**science**!" A little magic had been sprinkled on that last word.

"My weaknesses: German snackoos and science. Wait … I meant chocolate snackoos." _Definitely not a Freudian slip there, Ema_.

"Hmm. Can't say I've ever had any German snackoos, _Fräulein_." I didn't even need to turn around. "_Herr_ Forehead. _Kleine Fräulein_."

"Hey there, Prosecutor Gavin!" Trucy, chipper as always.

"Eh." Apollo. I knew I liked _something_ about the kid.

"Oh, _Herr_ Forehead, I'm afraid _meine Fräulein _detective cannot help you with your case. We _are_ the prosecution, after all."

_His _detective? Who does this asshole think he is, depriving a desperate boy of scientific assistance.

"You know what, kid? I think I _will_ help you with your case. Science isn't selfish or … glittery anyway. And German snackoos would probably taste awful!"

x

Food. What better way to get through to a pretty _Fräulein _than with food?

He knocked on the apartment door and soon he heard lazy scrambling and a sudden "_oh hell_" that would have made Papa Gavin proud.

"What in the whole entire horse-fucking world could you possibly want now?" was his hello.

"Such words are unbecoming of such a pretty _Fräulein_, no? And so early!" He presented the food tray to her, revealing an honest-to-goodness German chocolate cake, frosted excessively with even more chocolate, topped with chocolate marshmallows.

The detective raised a sleepy eyebrow toward the beaming prosecutor. "Well, are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in, you fop?"

The apartment wasn't very impressive. Well, she _did_ get paid a detective's salary.

"I know it's not much, but at least I make more than Gumshoe did. Poor guy. Mr. Edgeworth was always docking his pay left and right …."

"You are very fond of Miles Edgeworth, are you not?"

"Now, _that_ was a man with class," she guffawed. Klavier was slightly hurt.

"Well, are we going to eat the cake or what? I didn't spend all night baking it for it to go to waste, ja?" he said as he put the dessert on the table.

"Whoa, whoa. _We _ are not enjoying _anything_ together, mister." Klavier snickered. "Plus, how do I know it's not poisoned? Or even worse, spiked with roofies or something. It's even worse to know you baked it yourself."

"You have nothing to worry about, _mein_ dear. I only resort to drugs if cake does not do the trick," he grinned.

"Funny."

"Come on, _Fräulein_. You're hurting _mein_ feelings. Klavchen will even feed it to you if you want, how about that?"

"Hey, I can feed myself! I'm a big _Fräulein_, you know." Despite herself, Detective Skye smiled. Klavier felt something tug at the edges of his persistence. As Ema dragged herself across the tiny apartment, hunting for silverware, he could not help but notice the sleepy droop of her shoulders, the gentle curve of her arms, the shape of her pouting lips when she was trying to remember where she kept her cutlery. Maybe it was the fact that it was so early. She hadn't fully woken up yet, and her usual defenses were not up to par. Or was she actually letting her guard down?

As she came back, she must have noticed Klavier's silent realization. She put the spoons down on the table and sat in the opposite end of the small table, and looked anywhere but at the man sitting in front of her.

He walked over to her anyway. "What's wrong, _Fräulein_?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him.

"Doing … what, exactly?" he spoke to her as gently as he knew how.

She looked at him then. "Why do you call me _Fräulein_? My name is Ema. It's Ema."

"I know that, _liebling_. I know that," brushing hair off her face.

"I-I'm not just a 'miss', I'm a person."

"No, you're more than that. You're _mein Fräulein _detective. Mine."

"I don't want to be anybody's. I just want to be Ema."

And he held her tight, and she did the same.


End file.
